The Light Under The Stars
by ThisIsAwesomeness1825
Summary: They're getting married tomorrow. But not with each other. Percabeth. Sort of epilogue for When The Stars Aren't Bright Enough.
**Ha. So I managed to write a spur of a moment fic. I just wrote this today, and frankly, this was rather hasty and very unplanned, so forgive me for any errors. Another thing, since a lot has requested a chapter three for my fic When The Stars Aren't Bright Enough, this could be treated as that chapter, or probably the epilogue for that. That was for the reason that this fic could be somehow seen related to that. But if you wish to leave the ending there, you may do so.**

 **I intentionally had this separately posted because I can't just simply ruin the other ending. But if you're unsatisfied with that, then read this.**

* * *

She feels nervous.

Her fingers— pale and slender—are sweaty as she wrings the material of her finely woven dress. Her mother will probably scold her for staining and taking such low care for a very expensive dress, but she finds herself not caring. It's been a while, she thinks, since she started throwing away all caution and dive headfirst on to the water. The engagement had made her stricter and more cautious, and perhaps a little too cranky for her friends' liking, that she slightly forgot who she was before. But, as she stands on the makeshift floor of this small treehouse, staring at the closed door before her, she feels all memories rush back to her.

It is sudden and hits her harshly, that she has to take a deep breath and hold on the nearest arm of a chair to steady herself. She feels lightheaded, and somehow, the reddish orange light filtered by the glass window seems a bit too bright for her liking.

A face swims through her thoughts—a face she often tried to forget but cannot, and his eyes; the sharpness of his gaze seems to ignite the fire in her stomach that she so took so long to extinguish. But now, as it seems, those long days and nights don't matter anymore; this fire continues to burn as if it never died.

She tries to sit, but then a hand steadies her.

And she remembers it, clearly remembers it; oh boy, she never can quite forget _his_ touch.

Her right hand joins his from where it is placed on her hip, and she holds his hand. The callouses and scars on his palm are rough under her touch, but to her, this roughness can never make her forget how soft his hands were as he held her face; his lips stealing the breath out of her.

 _Percy_.

"Annabeth," he whispers on her ear, before he spins her to face him.

 _Oh_. _Goodness gracious._

"Perseus."

He withdraws from her—much to her dismay—and gazes at her with heavy eyes. "You know how much I don't like to be called by that."

Of course, she knows. She knows him, most of him, probably even better that any other person he has let anyone. "How can you hate your own name?"

"How can you _not_ hate this?"

She doesn't answer.

"Perhaps, you like it now, huh?"

Annabeth glares at him. "I may not hate this, but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

He laughs, but there's no humor in there. "Annabeth Chase, never lets anyone have the last word."

She wants to laugh too, partly because she feels really tingly that he doesn't seem to forget that thing about her, even though it is somehow meant as an insult. She never does though, as it may stir and create a misinterpretation on his part.

"You're getting married tomorrow," she states.

"And so are you," he says back.

It seems funny, now that she thinks of it. They're both getting married tomorrow, but not with each other. It is as though fate is teasing them, mocking them silently behind their backs. But no matter how much she tries to conceal it, she's really angry, furious even for some word that shouldn't quite mean as much as it does. Fate, such a strong meaning for a very simple word, and though she believes that this word shouldn't give much say to her decisions, it does though. It is hardly ever believed, fate is just a fantasy; but Annabeth blames it nonetheless. She blames it for everything that has happened; their separation, engagement and now, the impending goodbye.

"How is she?" Annabeth asks.

'Who?"

"Your fiancée."

"Calypso, you mean?"

She nods stiffly. She risks a glance at his eyes, waiting for the hate and dislike in them, but those are never there.

He wears a mask.

He looks away from her, and instead fixes his eyes towards the window. Annabeth follows his eyes, and stares at the reddish orange sun, as it sinks further into the night.

She wishes how they were just the sun; sinking every day, but nevertheless, still rising tomorrow.

"She's fine. Really great, honestly."

Annabeth chokes on his words, but she never risks to show it. He must be happy now, that he's able to be engaged to someone that could probably be even better than her. The thought burns in her mind, in her heart and _it hurts, it hurts, it hurts._

She clenches her fists and pretends that those words didn't have the effect to her as it was before. "Good. You must be happy then, Perseus."

"If you want to put it that way," he answers evasively. He glances at her, and she thinks how unfair it is that she's always under some spell with those eyes. "How about you, Annabeth? Are you happy?"

"Maybe. Probably." _No, no, no. I never was_.

"Does that mean that we're finally giving up? Letting these engagements ruin what was once ours?"

She doesn't answer.

Perseus—Percy swallows thickly and he stares, blatantly at her. But Annabeth can't find the courage to return his gaze nor to speak of what she knows she should say.

"I'm partly happy with Calypso, you could say that. But that couldn't even compare to what I feel when I'm with you."

"Thank you," is what she says.

Percy smiles sadly at her and reaches a hand to cradle her face. She leans into his touch, automatically. His green eyes are pleading; urging her to return the emotion in his gaze. "Annabeth, I love you. I never stopped."

She wants to return the words but instead, she shakes her at him. "Perseus, this is a lost cause."

"Is that what you think? Or what your mother tells you to think?"

"My mother doesn't belong in this."

"So, this meeting is just for you to finally say your farewell, for you to inform me that you're happy and I don't have to bother you anymore?"

"Perseus, it's not th—"

"I understand, Annabeth. I shouldn't have hoped. Goodbye then. I wish you all the luck in your marriage."

She's speechless. Beyond speechless with everything that he had said. She still can't quite comprehend that he's bidding her farewell until he turns and starts walking away from her. Away from her.

"Perseus. . ."

He doesn't stop.

"Percy."

She barely has a moment to think when she reaches for her left shoe and throws at him, hitting him the head. "Percy, stop!"

He turns with a determined scowl on his face. "Hey, what the—"

Annabeth cuts him off when she flings herself towards him and squeezes the breath out of his lungs. She doesn't quite know when the tears have started pouring out of her eyes and wet his shirt but she knows, perfectly knows, that she's beyond in love with this boy and she couldn't get away from him even if she wanted to, even if fate wanted her to.

"I hate that you have so much control in me and can't quite forget that I love you," she murmurs into his shirt.

He hugs her closer and she wishes, wishes so badly to stay in this moment forever. "Now, you don't know how much power you have over my world."

Annabeth laughs and breaks away from his hug, only to press her lips to his in a kiss full of promises.

And it's overwhelming, the way his kiss always have been; she feels the same rush of warmth and affection swell from her heart, only to make her body tingle with desire and passion for his touch. She lets herself melt completely under his lips, and this, this feeling is something she knew she experienced before but somehow stronger; and Annabeth briefly wonders how she ever survived this long without his lips to make her feel this feeling before.

"Marry me," Percy says against her lips before drawing back to hear her response.

"Now?"

"Now."

"Okay." She laughs because even though the idea sounds ridiculous, she knows he's not kidding. And she's not kidding either. "Okay."

He looks down and sees the engagement ring on her finger. He runs his thumb over it, before looking at her. "I don't have a ring."

She shakes her head with a smile and removes the ring from her finger. It feels as though the weight in her heart is gone too. "I don't care. Let's get married, right here, right now."

"Right here?"

"Yes."

He grins at her and throws both of their engagement rings. "Now, do you, Annabeth Chase, take me, Percy Jackson as your, um, _unlawfully_ wedded husband, from this day on until forever?"

Annabeth laughs at the word 'unlawfully' but then leans forward and whispers the words she so badly wants to say from the first time he kissed her, against his lips, "I do. For forever."

When she pulls away, Percy's smile is blinding, and Annabeth thinks that perhaps, even the light of a thousand stars couldn't possibly be brighter enough.

* * *

 **Spare me a review. Please.**


End file.
